


I Know, You Know, That I'm Not Telling the Truth

by Amand_r



Category: Batman (Comics), Psych
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-18
Updated: 2010-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amand_r/pseuds/Amand_r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman's been around. When it comes to psychic abilities, he's a believer. He is not, however, stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know, You Know, That I'm Not Telling the Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dorothy1901](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothy1901/gifts).



> Drabble for dorothy1901.

The short man shook my hand, gushing. "I've been a big fan for years sir, and I want you to know that—"

"Gus! Vibes over here!"

I looked around the room, then settled on Gordon, whose face was bright red. "Look, he offered to help, and the mayor invited him, so there's nothing I can do…"

I actually felt for Jim; the psychic and his assistant were milling about the room, whispering, staring at pictures, empty food cartons, decks of cards. The psychic, Sean Spencer, picked up a newspaper and sniffed it.

"—very handy with the Santa Barbara police department," Jim finished. He was still blazingly red.

Sean Spencer was about as psychic as I was. In fact, Sean Spencer would make a very good detective. Not a very good cop, but a very good detective. At this point I was just thankful that he had never decided to put on a costume. It was like watching Ted and Booster all over again, but this time Booster was actually rather intelligent.

I'd already figured this one out: the man had obviously had some contact with Zee in the last week or so. Her autograph was fresh on her picture, and the texts on the bookshelf weren't exactly Borders material: Arcanus Maleproptus, Wizardaetum Pareceptus, The Survivalist's Guide to Opening a Hellmouth. Well, maybe that last one. Given that I hadn't seen or heard about demons roaming the earth in the last week or so, it was safe to assume that the missing man was either in the Hellmouth, waiting to cause one, or already in mystical custody.

I'd call Zee and find out. If she hadn't a clue what I was talking about, which I doubted, then I'd start to worry.

But humor the psychic anyway. Don't make Jim feel any worse than he already did. Then again, that probably wasn't possible. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall; I had a few minutes to spare.

"And you, Mr. Spencer?" Jim said tiredly. "Do you sense anything?" I had to admit that I'd never seen Jim choke on a word so much as he has with 'sense'.

Mr. Spencer covered his eyes, mashing them in to his sockets. "I'm seeing a cage! Saw blades! Floppy ears! Zamfir!" He lowered his hands and frowned. "Who's Zamfir?"

"Master of the pan pipes," Gus murmured. "I think you might mean Zatanna."

"Yes! Zatanna! Mistress of the fishnets!"

And, that was it. I glanced at Jim and shoved off the wall. "I'm leaving."

END


End file.
